Collateral Damage
by SlytherinMalfoySnape
Summary: DH4 movie AU. What if John couldn’t save the day? “John can recall it with perfect clarity in his dreams. It’s like watching a movie but complete with sound, smell, the whole lot.” Slash. John/Matt.
1. That Bastard

**That Bastard  
**

**Summary:** DH4 movie AU. What if John couldn't save the day? "John can recall it with perfect clarity in his dreams. It's like watching a movie but complete with sound, smell, the whole lot." Slashy. John/Matt.

_Warning: __extreme __violence, torture and profanity. __More pre-slash than slash. No sex but briefly mentions sexuality._

* * *

John can recall it with perfect clarity in his dreams. It's like watching a movie but complete with sound, smell, the whole lot. He's sure it happened just that way but then a niggling doubt is at the back of his mind...if...maybe...it could have happened another way like some sort of parallel universe. Though he thinks that _that _is probably going too far into the conspiracy theories of life. The kid's paranoid tendencies are rubbing off on him. He doesn't think that it's good thing but really, he doesn't mind too much. 

Tonight, John is watching it again. Like when he was rookie and watching surveillance tapes on loop. Except can't find the pause button so he feels like he's missed out on the critical moment where the victim is being held at gunpoint facing the camera and you can ID the sonuvabitch. So the perp gets away with it and McClane doesn't, he _can't _save the day.

John felt tired. Having been shot at by friendly fire and chasing Gabriel to the hanger only to have his own body fail him. He thought wearily that maybe he was feeling his age. That maybe he wasn't up to the job anymore. His own beautiful daughter had tried so valiantly so help him but Gabriel had gotten away. With Lucy. And Farrell. They were God-knows-where with only God-knows-what kinda motherfucking sadistic asshole Gabriel is. Fuck. Fuck. **Fuck. **

It'd been three hours. He got himself another phone but it wasn't much use with the damage of the Fire Sale lingering. And without the kid he didn't know what to do. Maybe in more than one sense of the word. The FBI must have felt sorry for him because they got some other nerdy kid to fix him up with another phone in case Gabriel tried to use the hostages for ransom. John thinks it's a stupid idea when Gabriel has all the resources of America and possibly more in his hands. Laptop. An annoying little voice somewhere inside his head tells him that maybe he only thinks it's stupid because the nerdy kid didn't understand him like the kid did. Whatever.

"John." It's Gabriel's voice. Fucking Gabriel's voice in his ear. As if seeing his smug face hadn't been enough. "You think I'm afraid of you? That I won't kill your daughter because I need her as a bargaining chip?"

"That's right." John feels his lips moving and the confidence speaking inside him. It's all wrong. He feels detached from it all like he's just an actor doing his lines for a movie.

Thomas laughs in John's ear. It feels close than it should thanks to the walkie-talkie. "Well. Well. Well. You're right. I can use her as a bargaining chip but I need a punching bag. Luckily, I stumbled across your boytoy. I think I'm going to keep him. I mean he's very useful... but you already knew that didn't you?"

John winces and his mind tries to conjure plans to somehow trek his way to Gabriel's hideout. The kid was really having a bad day or three. "What do you want?" he manages to grind out between his clenched jaw. Bowman slips him instructions on a piece of paper. _Don't run off._ _Don't negotiate. Whatever you do, don't hang up the phone. Ke__ep him talking.__ They're working on cracking his location. Put it on speaker phone so they can record the conversation._ He puts it on speaker phone reluctantly. It feels like he's revealing something intensely private as if he's exposing a vulnerability inside him.

Gabriel's voice sounds more ominous and intimidating when amplified. "You know what I want. I want you all to realise who you're dealing with. I'm doing you all a favour. If you are willing to get the head of the FBI or the NSA or whoever the fuck it is that will negotiate with me then no one has to get hurt. This will all just be... a bad dream."

It all feels wrong to John. Thomas' offer is so tempting. Why would it tempt him? "We don't negotiate with terrorists," John replies smugly.

"Then I'm sorry," Thomas says sarcastically. "Little Matty boy there might just have a little...accident."

"Don't you fucking touch them or I'll-"

"You'll what, John? You and what army?" Thomas voice becomes dead serious. "I don't think you're in a position to threaten me right now."

There's a silence and then the crack of flesh hitting flesh. John almost flinches at the force of that sound. He can hear a groan. Then the sound of swearing from a distinctly masculine source. John hates himself for being relieved that it's not Lucy. Still something twists inside him when he hears that sound again and Farrell's mumbled cursing.

"Will you negotiate now?"

"I told you before-"Thump. John's heard seems to stop in his chest. Another muffled thump and a low sound in the background.

"Now?"

John doesn't say anything but it seems that the silence condemns him so much more. There is a gun shot and copious "Oh Gods, oh Jesuses". It's been years since McClane's felt that weird feeling inside him, like he might actually be physically sick.

"You see, John? You have much, much more to lose than I have right now. Just look."

John doesn't know how it happens but he figures that if Gabriel could hack into the national security system once, the temporary system in place would also fail. Yes, the government was trying to fix the damage as they were speaking, trying to track the bastard but that was going to take time. Time that they might not have.

And suddenly every single screen in the room was filled with Farrell's bruised and bloodied face. One of his eyes sporting an impressive shiner. He was sagging to the right, leaning heavily against the grimy wall for support. Shit, the kid is in a bad shape already.

"Smile, you're on candid camera."

Thomas must have made some kind of motion because Matt flinched, gritting his teeth as two men dressed in black hauled him upright. Thomas' voice could be heard. "Tell him to negotiate. Beg him. Do whatever you have to do. Do it or I'll swear to God I'll kill you."

When the kid just looks dazedly off camera, he is shoved roughly against the wall. It's then John realises that the wall isn't dirty. It's streaked with blood. The kid's blood. John wonders that if he could have the ability to zoom in, that he would be able to find a bullet hole within the tiny squares that makes up Farrell's shoulder on the pristine foot-long screens they use here.

John stalls. "Where's Lucy?" He feels guilty that in the midst of seeing someone else's pain, she's slipped his mind. His mind reminds him that it's not just someone else; it's the kid...his kid that he's been protecting. He isn't sure that it's entirely wise to call the attention on her, but he needs to know that she's not dead. He feels that he owes it to the kid in some way at least, to give him a small break. "What did you do to her?" He injects the fatherly anger heavily into voice to disguise his weakness.

The camera swivels over to Lucy, blindfolded and tied up. "She's right here," Gabriel says. His hand snakes over to caress her face, neck and moving downwards. "A slip and-"

"Take your fucking hands off her." Exactly the words on John's mind. Except he didn't say them.

The camera jolts to the floor and the next image is of Farrell spitting blood (and a tooth?) onto the floor.

"You don't learn do you, boy?" John can hear the incredulity in Gabriel's voice. He silently sends his strength and congratulations to Matt. John realises that he now thinks of Farrell as Matt. He has a name and he wants to call him that. McClane realises that this kid is special. He's earnt John's unwilling respect which is not easily done, and what's more in less than a few hours. He wonders at how in a few hours so much can happen and it can change you so much.

"What's the point? You're a lousy teacher." Matt grins, showing his bloody smile. He winks at the camera in a show of courage.

Some of the police force are whistling and cheering the kid on. People in the streets are spellbound by this drama. This show, this distraction is exactly what they need. They are hungry to know what happens next. John suspects that Gabriel is that twisted, he's broadcasting the call like some sort of perverse entertainment. Matt somehow seems to sense their plans. If he knows, John wouldn't be surprised. When John catches Bowman's eye, he knows this is exactly what they need. It doesn't mean that he has to like it.

"You little shit!"

Matt's down and he's getting the stuffing kicked out of him. Ribs. Lower back. Face. It looks like he's staying down for the count. Matt grunts and twitches on the ground but he doesn't respond to their taunts. Groin. Man, that is below the belt. The people around him cringe. There are muffled orders off camera and suddenly John's blood chills.

Thomas' angry voice. "Here's a little encouragement. I mean it Matt, I'm going to make you beg for your life." Then John sees Gabriel's smug sneer and he feels like throwing the phone through the screen. Except that it's literally Matt's lifeline and he can't. "Know this, you can stop it at any time John. Just get the negotiations started."

Matt's left hand is twisted behind his back and he struggles briefly but stills when the guy digs his hand into his injured shoulder. His other hand is put into a cuff out on the table. They force him to unclench his fist by pulling his left hand further up his back. He tries to pull back but the hands holding him are too strong.

"Behave. She can take your place at any time. I only need one of you alive." Thomas gestures over in the direction the John last saw Lucy. John realises that Gabriel must know how important Matt is to him now and he wishes that it wasn't so true. Or that Matt wasn't so noble. "We're going to make you wish you cooperated earlier," one of the henchmen says. He says it with such glee that John wishes he could pulverise the prick.

Matt merely bites his lip nervously, blinking in an owlish manner. "Try me," he says defiantly, but John thinks that the waver in his voice weakens the rebel image he's going for.

"You will regret saying that..." The pliers come out. John swears. "Think about never being able to type again hack boy..." Gabriel taunts.

Matt's saying fuck over and over under his breath and his eyes are screwed shut. He's going to hyperventilate if he doesn't calm himself, John thinks.

John sees the pliers close over Matt's last three fingers. Those pale, slim fingers. "You really don't want to do this Thomas," he tries. John looks at Bowman desperately. Bowman gives him an apologetic look. We're trying our best, wait, we're getting closer, he mouths. John is pissed because he doesn't want to hear empty platitudes. Closer is not close enough. This isn't happening – they are not going to torture the kid. They wouldn't...would they? It's just for show right?

"No, I think I really do, Detective," Thomas smiles maliciously into the camera.

There's a blessed pause and then it's horrible. The world seems to reverberate with agony. Matt's pained yell doesn't sound clean like it does in the action movies. It's a high-pitched screech that fills the building and everywhere with a sickening echo. John realises that Matt is saying something along the lines of stop, please and don't but the words are hideously mangled. Then Farrell stops, mumbling to himself. His digits are reddened and are sticking out at a weird angle.

John has no idea what to say. He doesn't want to upset Farrell by trying to comfort him and he doesn't want to give Gabriel any more ammunition. With no answer from John, Thomas orders his henchmen to continue his dirty work. John motions frantically for the people to turn down the volume. He wishes that everyone wouldn't just watch it. This is some sick shit. He's seen torture before but this, this is twisted and he's never felt so frightened for someone. He's nervous and not detached at all. He feels that he's going to break. Give in to the commands.

"I'm really sorry Matt. Oh God." John manages to heaves out after another ear-splitting, heart-wrenching scream. Matt doesn't answer, he's probably lost his voice and John is sure that his young cheeks are not just dampened with sweat. His entire body seems to thrash convulsively in the chair. McClane can clearly see the traces of tears and snot. Matt's fingers are bleeding now, twitching between the teeth of pliers. John thinks that the nerves must be crushed and in shock, he knows that the damage might be permanent. That Matt won't be typing another word for a long time to come.

They release his disfigured fingers and move onto his thumb. Another round. Though this time Matt is more subdued, his voice more hoarse and his sobs shake him. The henchmen are pointing at a telltale stain in the front of Matt's jeans, making faces. Matt flushes and hangs his head, trying to use his hair to shield him from the humiliation. He's shrinking from the camera, looking much younger and helpless than he did before when John first shielded him with his body in Matt's apartment. John turns to Bowman with a pained glance and the righteous anger of a parent. "Are you getting anywhere? For God's sake, they're fucking torturing him. And my daughter's in there with those psychopaths."

As they're getting ready for another round, Matt breaks. "I'll do it ok?" he says hoarsely. "Just..." The pliers start to squeeze in a deceptively gentle motion and his eyes widen impossibly. "Please. Don't." He shrinks back.

A slip of paper. They're on the way. John can't bring himself to be triumphant, seeing Matt being broken like that. Just hold on kid, hold on, he thinks desperately.

"After I'm through with him...Lucy's next. I know I need her alive but that doesn't mean I can't damage her huh? Pity."

Shit, John thinks. We're sitting ducks. He can't even summon enough fear for Lucy. All he can think of is Matt and those screams. He doesn't say anything, doesn't rise to Thomas' taunts because he knows that the bastard needs him. And the bastard needs Matt. _He_ needs Matt to live. So that they can somehow salvage this wreck.

The camera zooms so that you can clearly see the purple shadows of a hand on the kid's face. The shiner on his eye, the cut above his eyebrow, the split lip. His hair is now plastered to his forehead his breath is a bit wheezy.

"John. McClane." John feels that his heart is about to burst.

"Please, man, please. Do it for me." Matt pauses and looks down. A painful nudge in the midsection jolts him up. "Ok, I swear, I'm doing it! I don't know what to say!" Matt's panic sounds genuine but John smiles because he knows the kid is stalling. For help? For his life? The kid's gotten good. Real good. He looks into the camera, his eyes dangerously moist. "I'm begging you. This is life or death and please, please, please ..."

John isn't sure how he's going to say 'no'. He's just about ready to promise the world to this kid. Anything to stop this terrible chain of events. How could anyone not?

"...don't give in to them."

John's heart swells with pride at Matt's bravery but not for long. An enraged roar and a string of curses followed by a shot. Then two more. It feels like slow motion. Matt jerks, his mouth opening in surprise and then he slides downwards. With the position of the camera, John can't see him anymore. John thinks that Matt might have been smiling. McClane can feel it, inexplicably knows it: Matt's gone.

The SWAT team rushes in just at that moment. He's saved the world but John thinks he's lost his soul. Bowman congratulates him for holding his nerve. John feels like they've been shot to pieces because suddenly he can't feel anything. It's all numb. It shouldn't be because it should hurt. He knows he felt something for that kid. He couldn't be that cold, could he?

So Lucy and John live. They survive. John doesn't begrudge Lucy for getting back on the bandwagon so soon. He's a little jealous himself – that she was knocked out for most of it so she doesn't remember. He's glad she hasn't asked though because John will say that she doesn't need to know, or that he's forgotten. Sometimes he wishes that he could but most of the time he's sure that he'll never forget it. He's living a cursed half-life now.

John gets another bravery medal that he doesn't want or need. Everyone else forgets about Matt. John snorts when they gave the kid some sort of medal posthumously. Burying someone with a medal is just another way of burying guilt. John cut ties with Bowman after that. Or Bowman cut ties with him when he refused to go to a shrink for his "anger and survivor's guilt management issues". It's probably written on his file and he doesn't give a shit. He can't help but wish Bowman could have timed it better. Just a little earlier. Got the hackers to do their thing a little faster. Had the SWAT team drive a little faster. Those little minutes could have saved the kid, instead of just offering Matt up like some sort of human sacrifice. John doesn't need someone else to tell him he's hurting and grieving. He doesn't need someone to tell him that grief does strange things to people. Fucks them up. He knows that he's lost something important to him. Like a son. He can't bear to see his own son just in case it reminds him of Matt. It's irrational.

It seems crazy, but he still laughs at that kid's lame jokes. It's pointless trying to explain it to people that don't understand. So he holes up in his house. He doesn't need to work, those state compensation payments will keep him off his feet well after he dies. He's not the luxury kid of guy anyway. He can't help but feel he could have comfortably paid for the kid to have a new apartment and probably get him a whole collection of those dolls he would have liked. But he doesn't let himself get carried away. Matt's dead. The sober feeling washes over him again. He's not hungry anymore and he pushes the meal away. He's taken to getting himself smashed as a new hobby. The worst part is that he wakes up and reaches across the covers because he's sure that he'll find Matt there. And he's disappointed when he doesn't. He's not gay. Maybe he just wishes he was still around? John in his confused, confused mind wonders if it means he's lonely if he thinks about the kid all the time.

_John: You know what you get for being a hero? __Nothing.__ You get shot at. You get a little pat on the back, blah, blah, blah, __atta__ boy. You get divorced. A wife can't remember your last __name,__ kids don't __wanna__ talk to you. You get to eat a lot of meals by yourself. Trust me, kid, nobody wants to be that guy.  
__Matt: Then why are you doing this?__  
John: Because there's nobody else to do it right now, that's why. Believe me, if there was somebody else to do it I'd let them do it, but there's not, so we're doing it.__  
Matt: That's what makes you that guy._

He thinks now that Matt was wrong. He wasn't that guy. It was Matt. He was that bastard now. That bastard that let Matt get killed. Matt died for Lucy, for him. He's alive. His family's alive and he _still_ has a job to do. What he does best. He has to make sure that Matt's sacrifice wasn't in vain.

So it's three o'clock in the morning and with a slightly vindictive smile, John dials the number he's memorised over the years. After a precisely ten and a half rings, an unmistakable voice answers.

"Hello?" Fumbling sounds. "John?"

"Uh huh."

"It's fucking 3 am."

"I know."

A sigh. "What do you want?"

"I want my job back." John smiles into the phone. "And a pay rise."


	2. That Kid

**That Kid**

Alternate ending for "That Bastard". Really, another excuse for Matt torture and John/Matt. Definitely slash this time.

**Warning:** Profanity. Sexuality and non-graphic sex.

* * *

Everything feels all wrong. It felt like he knew what was supposed to happen next but it didn't end like that. He wouldn't make up with Bowman. That is fucked up. Bowman is there, shaking him, telling him that Matt died. His voice doesn't sound right. He says John's name like Matt. But Matt's dead. He's been dead for months...years? 

"McClane. McClane. _John._"

John says it even before he's opened his eyes. "Matt? Is that you?" Is it really you? His hands seek evidence, snaking across the bed. His hands connect with smooth flesh and John sighs contentedly. He doesn't even realise that he's squeezing Matt's hand, his unbroken and unblemished hand until Matt squeezes back affectionately. John brings the pale digits to his face, kissing them.

"Have you been sleeping with someone else?" Matt says with a raised eyebrow, propping himself up on an elbow awkwardly so he can see John's face more clearly. Even his underlying tone is not of jealousy but of a naive, endearing, sort of curiosity. John wonders how Matt face is so... open. John is glad that the kid would be a terrible liar.

"Would that bother you?" John teases.

Matt shakes his head, his chocolate curls falling into his eyes. "I'd feel sorry for them because you're mumbling my name in your sleep." Matt's eyes show concern. He just doesn't want to fuss over McClane because he figures that John isn't that kind of guy. "I trust you," he says simply as if nothing else mattered.

John looks away, remembering Matt's eyes when he was being tortured. He trusted John then too.

Matt doesn't ask any questions, doesn't say anything. A quick glance at the clock tells him it's three in the morning. He figures that John will talk about it when he's ready or maybe never.

In the mean time, he lets John pin him to the bed. Matt gives an undignified, surprised squeak as a warm and soft mouth licks his shoulder. John is always aggressive after having those night dreams, visions, memories, whatever they are – Matt knows that he wouldn't hurt him. John always takes care of him. Sometimes he acts like he has to make sure that Matt is still real, still there with him. Sometimes apologies spill out and he talks about things that Matt doesn't remember. Matt restrains himself from commenting, even if this is the third or fourth time this week that it's happened. Matt knows that John doesn't fall asleep after he's woken up even though he's exhausted. He offers to stay up with John but John just shakes his head and holds Matt until he falls asleep mumbling algorithms. He knows John's needs. Just like when John finds his clammy body clinging to him on the other nights, his left leg cramping painfully, trying to bury his face in the perfect spot between his lover's neck and shoulder. John pretends that he can't feel the tears soaking his skin. Instead he kisses the mop of brown hair, letting the familiar smell of Matt anchor him in this fucked up, wonderful world.

**All criticism welcome. **

_AN: I will say I really hate strongly dislike "and I woke up and it was all a dream" fics but occasionally, they are alright. I hope you'll forgive me for this one._


End file.
